


Drinks With Tom: Part 2

by elle_and_em



Series: Licorice and Mint: Tales from New Darpana Bay - Volume 1 [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Original Character(s), Other, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_and_em/pseuds/elle_and_em
Summary: This story take during the events of Licorice and Mint Part 8 (coming soon)After the Yuan-Ti hunt, Ahroun's pack of hunters begin to show him the respect he craves, however something is up with Vola.  As Ahroun grows concerned about what to do with the Half-Orc, now that he needs her talents more than ever, Tom gives him a fresh perspective and a possible solution.This work cites lyrics from Alice in Chains.  All rights belong to the respective recording artist.
Series: Licorice and Mint: Tales from New Darpana Bay - Volume 1 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092254





	Drinks With Tom: Part 2

_ “Walkin' tall machine gun man  
_ _ They spit on me in my homeland  
_ _ Gloria sent me pictures of my boy  
_ _ Got my pills 'gainst mosquito death  
_ _ My buddy's breathin' his dyin' breath  
_ _ Oh god, please won't you help me make it through?”  
_ _ -Alice in Chains, “Rooster” _

=====================================================================

Tommy was smoking a cigarette when Ahroun found him. The blue dragonborn’s tail was agitated, smacking the pavement in time to some music only he could hear. His oldest friend still wore the faded brown parka, red hoodie, and taped black sneakers from the last time they met in February. He sat under a dusty vent, which spewed warm air into the alley. Above him, a plastic tarp crackled with hail. It was early September, too early for bad weather, but it always seemed to follow his friend around.

Tommy’s eyes were closed, but Ahroun knew better than to stay quiet. They’d both been through too much for that. He coughed politely and waited until Tommy’s wild and bloodshot eyes focused on him. Even then, he waited until a beckoning claw drew him under the tarp. As Ahroun settled in, Tommy nodded to him.

“Red.”

“Dean.”

“Get my drunk old man’s name out of your mouth.”

“Then don’t fucking call me Red.”

Tommy considered this, and after a moment, withdrew an unlit cigarette from his pocket. Lighting it from the one in his mouth, he passed it to Ahroun, who accepted the peace offering and took a deep drag. The cool sting of menthol sang in his nostrils, and he grimaced.

“Minths?”

“Sehore Slims.” Tommy coughed. “A gift from my lady friend.”

“Was she cleaning out her drawer?” Ahroun cackled.

“Fuck you.”

The two of them smoked together in silence for a moment, listening to the hail roar overhead. The end of the alleyway was coated in ice, the wind howling sadly through the brick corridor where the blue dragonborn had made his home for the night.

“You been here long? At this spot, I mean.”

“Meh. Couple days.”

“You weren’t at the usual spot.”

“By the park? Nah, that place ain’t safe anymore. Too many eyes.”

Ahroun nodded. Tommy knew these things. All those years hunting LeQuin witches had sharpened his mind, made him wise to things that others would have missed. A twinge of guilt shot through the red dragonborn - he should’ve noticed it earlier. Was he losing his edge?

“How’d you find me?” 

“I need your help again.” Another deep drag. The mint cooled his lungs and his head. He didn’t like it. But Tommy was looking at him, studying him. He couldn’t put out the cigarette. Not if he wanted his friend to say yes. “Weather sucks, you won’t go to a shelter, and you’re a dragonborn. You need the heat, same as me. Narrowed it down.”

“Hmmm.” The response spoke volumes. He wouldn’t be this easy to find again, Tommy would make sure of that. He hated being predictable. “That sniveling goblin giving you trouble again?”

The red dragonborn  _ huffed _ in irritation, but shook his head. “Nah. Little shithead did okay on that sewer crawl. Finally grew a pair of balls.”

“The half-orc bitch?” At Ahroun’s silence, Tommy grinned, showing a jaw full of greasy black teeth. “I knew it.”

“She’s disrespectful.”

“Doesn’t listen to authority.”

“Always skulks off to spend time with her little halfling fuck toy instead of her family. Leaves everyone else to carry the weight. Fortify the house, get food, steal gas, whatever. If she ain’t in the armory doin’ who-knows-what, she’s got her nose in a book or her phone. Nothin’ but backtalk outta her, and I see the way she looks at me when she thinks I ain’t lookin.”

“She’s gunnin’ for your spot, Red.” The blue dragonborn spat. “Fuckin’ greenbacks, they’re all the same. Whinin’ about equality and fairness and then, the second you turn your back--” he made a stabbing motion.

“You really think she’s tryin’ to take over the family?” Ahroun’s skin burned at the thought. 

“Sure as the devil’s got tits. Curb stomp the bitch before she cuts your throat in your sleep.”

“I...can’t.” The words reluctantly fell from his mouth, heavier than stone, and the scoff from Tommy was scathing. “I need her to figure out what that cube says.”

“There’s gotta be someone else who can read it--”

“There ain’t.” And he’d looked. He’d pulled every contract from here to Bywater and back again, shaken down every fixer, and no one had so much as seen a shred of Infernal script in the last forty years. The post-war Purge had done its job, that was for sure. Oh sure, there might’ve been some egghead at some university who knew how to translate the Device, but that would’ve brought questions about where he’d gotten it. Scrutiny, maybe a police report. They’d have looked at him, a homeless red dragonborn bastard with the rarest artifact on the black market, and put two and two together. No, it wasn’t safe. Just the thought of marching down to the University District with it in his pocket made the back of his shoulder blades itch.

“So what the fuck did you come all the way down here for then?” Tommy’s voice cut through Ahroun’s thoughts.

“To help me find someone.”

“Who?”

Ahroun took another drag, for courage. “Jessalyn.”

For a moment, the only sound was hail pinging off plastic. Then Tommy scoffed. “You and everyone else in this city’s been lookin’ for her for decades, man. Sorry, can’t help ya.” But his hands shook as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“She ain’t gone. We’d know it if she was,” Ahroun growled. Tommy’s eyes had taken a faraway look, gazing at the end of the alley with a thousand-yard-stare. “Of all the LeQuin witches we cut down...we never could get to her.”

“That halfling cunt killed my whole platoon with those war-walkers of hers.” He spit on the ground. “Ripped forty-six of the best berserkers in the DLF to shreds so small ya couldn’t even pick up the pieces after.” 

“I remember. I thought they’d got you too.”

“Woulda, if you hadn’t found me.” Tommy’s cigarette was done. He flicked the butt into the grate, pulled out two more, lit them, and stuck them both in his mouth. Something dark and oily churned in the base of Ahroun’s belly. The memory was a smear-- 

_ Bricks are stained with crimson so thick it laps at the gutters. A hulking metal beast shakes the ground with every step, iron drums belching smoke from its back. It sweeps the street with black hematite eyes that swallow the light and reflect nothing. A stab of alien fear grips him. His friend stares blankly at the sky, nothing but a geyser below the waist-- _

But no, that last part wasn’t right. He’d found Tommy, dragged his friend out of sight while the war-walker had been distracted. In its metal hands, the two-tined weapon had crackled with arcane lightning. He should’ve stood his ground, retreat wasn’t what berserkers did - but he had done it anyway, slinking away from that weapon and those dead all-seeing eyes fast as he dared. They’d crawled for ages, finally stopping at the husk of a burned-out building. Only then had Tommy relaxed his iron-grip on Ahroun’s arm.  _ You dumb fuck,  _ he’d gasped around a clot of blood,  _ you shoulda left me. _

“You shoulda left me.” The words cut - did then, did now. Ahroun put the cigarette to his lips, but it was cold, shriveled to ash. 

“Will you help me find her?”

“What do you want with her, Red?” he sighed.

“No one speaks Infernal in this city. No one else can translate the Device. Vola says she can read it using all those old books from the antique store, but it’s slow goin’ and I don’t trust her. I need a backup plan. Those war-walkers...I may not be that smart, but I know Infernal fire when I see it.”

“What’s so special about this Device anyway?”

“Don’t ask me that. You know why. You of everyone.”

“So you’re really set on it then?”

“Never wasn’t.”

“Well, all right then. Hand me that box.” The blue-tipped claw pointed to a simple lacquered case, wood burnt black. It lay half-covered by a sleeping bag.

“You still have this thing?” Ahroun asked in wonder as he fished it from the mess. “I lost mine years ago.”

“Yeah, can’t seem to get rid o’ the damn thing,” Tommy grunted, flipping open the lid. Inside was an empty space for a folded flag and a compartment for a medal. The box contained neither. Ahroun recoiled as cockroaches overflowed onto his lap and Tommy’s sleeping bag.

“What the fuck, Dean?”

“Never knew you to be afraid of a few bugs.” Tommy flashed a sadistic smirk at Ahroun before reaching inside the roiling mass of insects. Quickly he shook his hand free and gathered up all the roaches within reach before depositing them back in the box and shutting the lid. In his hand was a folded pad of napkins. He unfolded each one, examining them carefully. Most were for cheap fast-food restaurants in the Silks. Each one had writing on them. 

“What--”

“Shh. Ah, here.” He flung a napkin for a noodle shop in Ahroun’s lap. Bewildered, the red dragonborn picked up the brown paper square and flipped it over. On the back was some scribbling that wasn’t in Tommy’s handwriting, next to a perfect lipstick kiss.

_ Cutting Room, Lower 42nd St, Silks  
_ _ Lily and the Black Sunshine  
_ _ Sept 3rd show  
_ _ NO weapons  
_ _ Baatezu _

“What’s this?”

“Your ticket to get rid of your greenback problem.” Tommy flung another napkin in his lap, this one for a fried chicken shack in Bywater. The napkin had grease smears on it and more unfamiliar handwriting.

_ Kojika’s Family Theater, West Park Street, Bywater  
_ __ The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums  
_ Nov 10, 1 showing only, 9pm  
_ __ Don’t come empty handed

“The fuck?”

“And that’s for your witch problem. I’d avoid that one with a ten-foot pole, personally. But I know you won’t.”

“So that cockroach pillow is what, your Rolodex?” 

“Bingo.” Not a bad idea, Ahroun had to admit. It was like Tommy, too, to keep his useful information hidden like this. A wad of used napkins safeguarded by roaches in a boring black box underneath a homeless dragonborn’s sleeping bag. The info written on those napkins was probably a gold mine, and easily flushed down the next toilet if it came to that.

“So what’s the deal with these?” Ahroun asked, studying the napkins.  _ Baatezu? _

“First one’s a concert. Lily and the Black Sunshine. Not for the faint of heart.”

“Fuck.” Ahroun’s eyebrows rose. “What’re we dealing with?”

“There ain’t no ‘we’. You got a problem, you send that problem in, that problem is no more. You copy?”

Ahroun studied his friend as if seeing him for the first time. “How’d you find out about this?”

“Don’t ask dumb questions, Red.” 

“What’s so special about this Lily?”

“Let’s just say she makes your Yuan-Ti problem look like a nursery o’ garter snakes.” 

“This….this is…” His mind whirled. “How’d this get past the city?”

“Does it matter? You can take care of the bitch execution-style, like you always do with monsters. Or, you can let her take care of your problem for you. Maybe your problem will take care of her too. You too pussy to use it? Fine. You got till September 3rd to decide. She’s only doin’ one Endib show though."

Ahroun sighed. “And the other?”

“You ever see  _ Story of the Last Chrysanthemums _ ?”

The name sounded oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Maybe? Talk me through it.”

“Movie’s a weird one. About a male actor playing female roles in the late 19th century.”

“Didn’t take you for a film buff.” Tommy just snickered. “And that helps me find Jessalyn how?”

“Kojika’s got a history with LeQuin. Not a good one. No love lost there. She’ll help point you in the right direction...for a price.” 

“What kinda price?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“And the movie’s important how…?”

“That’s all I’m gonna give you, Red. Like I said. I’d avoid that place like the plague if I were you. But you won’t.” Tommy rose to his haunches, giving an experimental poke to the tarp. It hung heavy with hailstones, causing the poles to bend at a dangerous angle. “This thing’s gonna snap soon.”

“Then what?”

“Then you’ll prolly need to find somewhere else to sit.” 

“Wait, you’re leaving? In this?”

“Nice night for a walk. I mean, you can stay long as you like. Enjoy the vent. It’s nice.” At Ahroun’s bewildered stare, Tommy began to whistle, a low haunting sound that sounded like the wind blowing through empty brick alleys. Ducking out from underneath the tarp, he threw his hood over his face and began to shuffle down the alleyway. Hail big as golf balls pelted him, but he didn’t seem to even notice.

As Tommy disappeared around the corner, Ahroun studied the black lacquered box and the two napkins in his hand. Checking once more for Tommy, he reached for the box and opened it again. Brushing the cockroaches aside, he shook the wad of napkins free and unrolled it. What other dirt might Tommy have? Never knew when it could come in handy.

A crumpled mess of plain brown squares drifted to his lap. Unmarked, all of them. Of course.

“Goddammit, Dean.”


End file.
